Chorus
STRO. 1.
ANTIS. 1.
863
Fair Fortune deign with me to dwell,
My soul if holy reverence awes,
By thinking, speaking, acting well,
To bow obedient to the Laws.
865
From heav'n they draw their lineage high,
And tread with stately step the sky:
Their father the Olympian king;
No mixture of man's mortal mould;
Nor shall Oblivion's sable wing
870
In shades their active virtues fold.
873
In them the god is great, nor fears
The withering waste of years.
The tyrant Pride engenders. Pride
875
With wealth o'er-fill'd, with greatness vain,
875
Mounting with Outrage at her side,
The splendid summit if she gain,
Falls headlong from the dangerous brow,
Down dash'd to ruin's gulf below.
Not so our monarch: for of old,
880
His contest glorious to the state,
884
In her own blood the Fury roll'd :
So may the god now guide his fate!
885
Still be the god's protection mine,
Strong in his power divine !
But should some wretch, contemptuous, bold,
Brave the just gods, his hands with slaughter stain,
The vengeful pow'rs of heav'n disdain,
Nor their pure seats in holy reverence hold,
890
Him may perdition sweep away,
And thus his wanton pride repay;
Him too, whom wild Ambition prompts to seize,
Though Justice cries aloud, forbear.
895
Can all his vaunts, who dares attempts like these,
897
Guard his proud heart from guilty fear?
Such deeds if glory waits, in vain
900
I lead this choral train.
No more at Delphi's central cell,
At Abæ, or Olympia's hallow'd shrine
Attendant pay I rites divine,
Till the god deigns this darkness to dispel.
O Jove, if thee we rightly call
905
The sovereign lord, the king of all,
Let not concealment this in shades enfold
From thee, and thy immortal reign!
The oracles, to Laius giv'n of old,
They spurn with insolent disdain,
910
911cont3
No more to Phœbus honours pay;